"Gettin' jiggy wit it"

There are thousands of blokes who were quite content with the COVID-19 dancing ban thank you very much.

There are even more who are keen to continue watching dancefloor frivolity from a distance; acting cool or engaging in conversations that, while trivial, have the look of serious business deals needing to be done.

"I'll grab another round of drinks", or "I am ducking to the toilet", or "my brother phoned", or "I was just chatting with old mate", were common excuses and explanations no longer required while the ban was in place.

But then the International Olympic Committee had to ruin everything by approving breakdancing as an Olympic sport with gold medals awarded from 2024.

Years ago, I won tickets to a breakdancing workshop held upstairs at the former Polish Hall - 97 Bathurst Street, Launceston.

And now with age nor prowess not even close by my side, perhaps this early introduction will make a difference come selection trials.

We waited with bated breath to see what the state government would do in response to the IOC's announcement.

Without hesitation they reacted swiftly and, with culture at the heart of their decision-making, announced that the dancing ban would be lifted so we could begin preparation and training in earnest for the 2024 Games.

Book the tickets to Paris.

Surely this had to be a decision of Cabinet. None of the "for noting" rubbish when ministers feel they can handle the fallout.

Surely, the Premier needed cover.

Now, Mr Gutwein appears more of a footballer than a breakdancer.

Perhaps he has a hidden talent? But he is left-footed. Let us hope he does not have two left feet.

Tasmania is well known for football and cricket and rowing and hockey and cycling.

But breakdancing because of our climate and vast landscapes? What an opportunity. You know it makes sense.

So, it is time to be "Gettin' jiggy wit it" again.

If Twain's nightclub or the boxes at Sim's still existed, pandemonium would ensue.

There would have to be roped-off areas for the ultra-serious in preparation for 2024.

We would be hitting the dancefloor determined to become the first Aussie breakdancing flag bearing medallist.

Or perhaps not.

For many of my generation we were drilled in country dances, polkas, and square and set dances during primary and high school years.

The Barn Dance, the progressive Barn Dance, the Heel and Toe Polka, the Pride of Erin, the Gay Gordons, Strip the willow, and a good old-fashioned waltz were all standards that we learned back in the day.

Most of the dances were of British or European origin and would form a four-week block of instructional time during physical education lessons.

I still remember the steps for the heel and toe like we learned them yesterday.

"Heel and toe, heel and toe, step two, three, four, heel and toe, heel and toe back two, three, four, right-hand clap, left-hand clap, both hands clap and slap your knees, the caller would broadcast with students so familiar with the sequence we joined the call.

Traditionally, boys would choose girls.

"Move quickly", "don't hesitate", "choose carefully". But not the most popular, no matter how brave you feel, we all know the footy captain (Thommo or Robbo or Johnno) will ask her.

Your brain and hormones would be all a flutter with a fear of failure the strongest emotion.

And on the rare occasion when it was girls' choice it was even worse.

The lessons were either fun or excruciating with little room for in between.

It was what you made of it; the more you gave the more you were rewarded.

In some ways, my brother and I were fortunate.

We were taught how to dance. Basic steps but enough to deliver important pre-conditions for learning.

My parents were of the generation who met at dances. Introductions and engagements and marriages had their foundations on the dancefloor.

At country dances in the local hall there was no opportunity to slide into people's direct messages or swipe right, this was full noise courting with the brave and shy equally catered for as a likely young lad or lass could swoop and swoon.

In my view, the hardest teaching time you will do is kindergarten, followed by swimming, and then dancing with students' tears, losing your voice, and the need for constant cajoling testing the exemplary.

I still judge physical education teachers on their ability to instruct dance.

The very best are scientists with youngsters remembering dances for the rest of their lives, rolling them out at socials and leavers dinners and balls and birthdays and weddings and special events.

Sure, the Nutbush and the Macarena were added to the country dances, but, for my generation, these memories are our TikTok.

The truth is, we admire those who are accomplished dancers; their ability to float the boards with grace and poise and a confidence that attracts attention because of unrelenting focus.

Nonetheless, you heard it here first: former junior breakdancing workshop attendee steps the comeback trail.